


The Ultimate Challenge

by sal_si_puedes



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Alpha!Harvey, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fandom Trumps Hate, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mention of blood, Omega!Mike, Smut, boxing!Harvey, not too graphic descriptions of boxing injuries, slight dub-con because of the a/b/o and heat stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 17:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: Just like every year, "The Fight", the city's most prestigious boxing tournament for Alphas, is about to determine the Alpha Champion of the year. Of course, Harvey takes part in it, ready to defend his title.The training period is long and, because to have a Winning Champion on staff is also a huge asset to a law firm like Pearson Hardman, as a contestant Harvey is granted special treatment and he's being cut a lot of slack during the preparation time and the tournament itself.Nevertheless, Harvey has an important part at the firm, so he has to be kept in the loop at all times, and his signatures and his decisions are constantly needed, so his associate Mike Ross (a closeted omega posing for a beta) has to drive to the gym in a shady part of town on a daily basis to deliver files, to get Harvey's signature and to brief him on the goings-on at the firm.Even though Mike knows deep down that Harvey is as muchhisAlpha as he is Harvey's omega, he shies away from any kind of (romantic and/or sexual) relationship with Harvey. He's not going to give up what he's been fighting to maintain his entire life: his independence.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CowandCalf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowandCalf/gifts).



> Written for [cowandcalf](https://cowandcalf.tumblr.com/), who bought me at this year's [Fandom Trumps Hate](https://fth2018offerings.tumblr.com/). Thank you so much for a very generous donation to a great cause!!
> 
> Huge thanks go, as always, to my amazing beta reader, muse and best friend [lawsonpines13](http://lawsonpines13.tumblr.com/). You really are an angel and I couldn't have done this without you and your incredible support!!!

_Boxing is the ultimate challenge. There’s nothing that can compare to testing yourself the way you do every time you step into the ring._  
[Sugar Ray Leonard] 

*****

There are Alphas, there are those incredibly intense Alphas that make the hair at the nape of anybody’s neck bristle with the sheer electricity of their presence, and then there is Harvey Specter.

From the day Mike barged into that suite at the Chilton, from the moment the door to that room had opened to him, and Mike had stepped inside, it had been there, that feeling of being so attuned to the man walking up to him, ready to shake his hand, it had made Mike dizzy with need. During the ten and a half months that followed the interview that feeling had never faded, on the contrary – it had become stronger with every beat of Mike’s heart, even though he had upped his suppressants to the absolute maximum and maybe even a bit beyond.

Now, after almost a year at Pearson Hardman, after having worked side by side with Harvey for almost eleven months, there isn’t a second, day or night, when Mike isn’t aware of Harvey, there isn’t a moment Mike can’t feel Harvey in every fiber of his being and there’s nothing he detests more than that.

The feeling, no, the _knowledge_ that he depends on Harvey this much already, that he needs to be close to him even though nothing has happened between them, well, nothing _like that_ , not yet, sits in Mike’s throat like a crumb he’s unable to cough out.

He knows what this is, of course he does, but he doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want Harvey like that, not in a million years, not someone like Harvey Specter, not someone who is more of an Alpha than anyone Mike has ever met, and not even if he’s _his_ Alpha, which clearly is the case here, not even then.

For all of his life Mike has been avoiding something exactly like this, he has taken every precaution for as long as he can remember, and he can remember everything, and still he hasn’t been able to stop this from happening.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Harvey, Harvey is great, both as a mentor and as a boss once you get to know him a little and once you’ve learned how he likes things to be done and how to sneak everything else past him and his goddamn acute Alpha senses. So, it’s not that he doesn’t like Harvey, but want, need, _love_? Definitely not.

Mike sighs as he steps out of the elevator, steeling himself against that familiar lurch in his stomach and the wave of warmth that always follows in its wake as soon as he lays eyes on Harvey or hears his voice. 

This time it happens only a split second later when he turns right and Harvey is standing there at the reception, surrounded by three other senior partners one of which is giving Harvey a distinctly appreciative slap on the shoulder. 

_Alphas_ , Mike thinks, inwardly shaking his head. Harvey has probably won big at Poker last night or made some impressive conquest or maybe it even was a combination of the two. The looks in the senior partners’ eyes suggest the latter. _Alphas_.

It takes Mike the whole day and half of the next to figure out that something else must be going on with Harvey, and he blames it on the insane workload the Coastal Motors snafu still keeps swamping his desk with, even though everything should be as good as settled by now.

The first thing he notices is that there are even more subtle nods and appreciative glances in Harvey’s direction than usual, then that there are groups of three or four Pearson Hardman employees, senior and junior partners and even paralegals and secretaries, gathering on corners or in doorways, whispering and exchanging knowing glances whenever Mike walks by.

When he mentions it to Harvey, Harvey brusquely brushes him off and tells him to get back to work, those briefs are not going to proof themselves, and besides, Travis Tanner is going to be at the firm in an hour and he would have needed the transcription of those phone calls over an hour ago.

Donna brushes him off as well, and even before Mike has finished asking the question. “You know very well that I’m not going to talk to you about it if Harvey doesn’t,” she says and turns back to her computer screen, and Mike makes his way back to his cubicle with a slightly confused frown on his face.

In the evening, he has had enough. He asks Rachel if she wants to go out and have drinks after work, and when their first round has been served, he raises his glass to her and takes a small sip.

“So,” he says, as casually as he can. “What’s going on with Harvey, then?”

Rachel looks at him over the rim of her glass, rather taken aback. She lowers her glass slowly, narrowing her eyes. “You don’t know?”

Mike shakes his head, taking another sip from his glass.

Rachel frowns and shakes her head in disbelief. “How can you not know?”

“Rachel,” he says, licking his lips. “You’re my best friend. Don’t—”

“He’s going to be in The Fight,” Rachel cuts, in and Mike falls silent.

“What fight?”

“Wha— _What fight?_ ” Now Rachel looks positively shocked. “Please tell me you have heard about The Fight. _The_ Fight?”

“Oh. _Oh!_ ”

Or course Mike has heard about The Fight, everyone has, but he’s never followed the goings on in that department closely, the whole thing being a blatantly _Alpha_ business to begin with.

“Yeah,” Rachel nods. “’Oh.’.”

“So, Harvey is in it?”

“Sometimes it is hard to believe you’re even real,” Rachel sighs. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“Rach, you _know_ I’m not into Alpha sports. I just—”

“So, here’s the thing.” Rachel interrupts him once more, a slight hint of impatience swinging in her words. “Harvey takes part in The Fight every year, has done so for ages. He always makes his way up to the finale and he has been the reigning champion for three years running – and _this_ year, Travis Tanner has signed up as well, with him being back in town and all.”

“Wow,” Mike says, setting down his glass. “That’s kinda big.”

“It is big,” Rachel says. “All bets are off now with Tanner in the game, but the firm is backing Harvey, of course. The preliminaries begin in two months, and the big one, the grand finale, is in three. Harvey will start his training sessions tomorrow. It’s going to be a tough regimen with everything that is at stake for him. Last year, it felt as if he was at the gym basically twenty-four seven.”

“Wow,” Mike says again and the he falls silent. Twenty-four seven, that is a lot of time away from the firm. “And what about his job?”

Rachel shrugs. “I have no idea how he does it. Jessica has his back, though. I mean, her reputation is on the line as well, the firm’s reputation, I mean, so she usually cuts him a lot of slack during prep time and even more during the fight month.”

“Wow,” Mike says again, but it sounds more like a hoarse croak to him, and his mouth feels as dry as sand all of a sudden. “I didn’t know about any of that.”

“Yeah,” Rachel says and signals for their waiter to order another round. “I figured, Mike.”

*****

The next morning when Mike arrives at his cubicle, Harvey isn’t there, but Mike finds a note on his desk letting him know that Jessica wants to see him in her office as soon as he’s in.

“Take these to Harvey,” Jessica says in lieu of a greeting after she’s brusquely waved for him to enter her office, only looking up from her laptop’s screen when he’s standing right in front of her desk. “This is the address. I need them signed by noon, earlier if possible. Here’s what he needs to know about the whole situation,” she adds, handing him another manila folder. “You can read up on the facts on your way there and brief him once you get there. There’s a car waiting for you downstairs.”

“A car?”

Jessica nods.

“I assume you know what this is about?”

Now it’s Mike’s time to nod and to secretly release a shaky breath, thanking his curiosity for asking Rachel out for drinks the night before.

“The gym where he trains is, let’s say, not in the best part of town. Hunts Point. Shady. Hence the car. Watch your back out there. Statistics of betas getting mugged out there are high, so watch out.” She hesitates for a split second before she adds another word. “Mike.”

Mike nods again and clears his throat, but Jessica cuts him short before he can even speak.

“The best coach there is works there, though. Henry Gerard. Four times former champion. Harvey is going to win this.”

“Yeah,” Mike murmurs, and when his and Jessica’s eyes meet once more he can see hers softening for a very brief moment before the wall of ice is back up again. “I know.”

“Now go. Like I said – I need those back by noon if not sooner.”


	2. Chapter 2

The driver isn’t Ray, it’s a young beta who introduces himself as Tao and whose jaws clench as he reads the address on the slip of paper Mike hands to him before he slides into the backseat. Then he nods and drives Mike all the way up to Hunts Point in complete silence. He drives onto the gym’s parking lot and gets out of the car to escort Mike from the car to the entrance.

“Text me when you want to leave, sir. I’ll be at the door as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Mike nods, casting a quick look around. There are a couple of shabby cars parked in the lot and in its far away corner there’s a group of sinister looking youngsters gathering around a burning barrel. They glare at Mike from under their hoods, and even across the distance their eyes feel like knives.

Mike shivers and quickly steps through the heavy iron door Tao is holding open for him. 

“Thank you,” he says before the door falls shut behind him.

It is dim inside, and Mike’s eyes need some time to adjust. Before he can see his surroundings properly, he smells sweat, an insane amount of Alpha pheromones and stale air and he hears muffled yelling and the distant sounds of blows and hits.

“Yeah?”

The scruffy looking man behind what seems to be the gym’s reception area looks as if he has been in one too many fights himself, his face slightly distorted and a long scar running from his right temple to the corner of his mouth. He sounds harsh and in a strange way offended by Mike’s apparently unexpected and obviously unwanted presence.

“I’m here to see Harvey Specter?”

The guy’s eyes widen just a fraction and he merely nods in a general direction to Mike’s right before he returns his attention back to the small screen he had been staring at when Mike arrived.

Mike makes his way through the tiny lobby and through the empty locker room before he stops in the doorway to the actual training area to take in the scene that unfolds before his eyes.

There are several sand bags hanging from the ceiling, there are dumbbells and barbells, benches with towels and boxing gloves scattered around on them and then there are the boxing rings themselves, eight, maybe ten, and all of them occupied.

As far as Mike can see and as far as he understands, there are coaching sessions taking place in some and sparring fights in others, but he isn’t entirely sure given the fact that he doesn’t know much about boxing. It takes him a while to find Harvey, who is sparring with a younger man in one of the rings in the back of the gym, an older man standing at one of the edges.

Mike’s eyes follow Harvey’s movements for a while. Harvey is clad in dark boxing shorts and a worn out gray t-shirt, black boxing shoes, and, of course, a pair of black leather boxing gloves. He’s sweating and breathing heavily, and Mike can see wired concentration and carefully bridled energy in every move he makes. He doesn’t wear a helmet like the guy he’s sparring with does, so Mike can observe his face as well. The look he finds on it causes his stomach to drop and his heart to miss a beat.

Harvey’s eyes are on fire, and his face is burning with fierce determination. He is so shockingly beautiful it’s making Mike’s vision spin. He looks larger than life like this, even more so than he usually does in his three-piece suits and with his thousand dollar haircut.

For a moment an overwhelming urge to drop the folders he’s holding and to run, to flee as fast as he can, grabs hold of Mike, but then the old man at the edge of the ring yells for the fighters to stop and motions for Harvey to come closer, presumably to discuss the blow Harvey has just landed to his sparring partner’s helmet.

Mike takes a deep breath and straightens his back. The gym is buzzing with Alpha energy, and from his first perusal of the facilities Mike gathers that he’s probably the only non-Alpha in the room. As far as he can see, there aren’t even any betas around. And even though he’s been fooling Harvey and the rest of the firm for almost a year now, Mike is not sure he’ll be able to pass for one among all those Alphas. He’s in way over his head with this and he mustn’t let anyone figure out, under no circumstances, what he really is.

Harvey looks up from the piece of paper the old man is showing to him and at which he keeps pointing, and his eyes meet Mike’s. He exchanges a few quick words with the other man before he walks across the ring, untying his boxing gloves.

“Mike.”

“Yeah.” Mike startles from his state of mesmerized terror and shakes his head quickly to clear his thoughts. “Jessica needs those signed by noon, if not sooner.” He starts briefing Harvey on the case at hand while he watches how Harvey takes off his gloves and reaches for a bottle a young man in sweatpants and a t-shirt with the gym’s logo on the back hands him. 

Harvey takes a couple of deep drags and then he lifts the bottle and turns it upside down, pouring some of the remaining water over his head. He shakes his head, and the droplets of water hitting the skin of Mike’s hands and face burn like liquid fire.

Harvey is standing close, a little too close for Mike’s liking maybe, and the scent he’s emanating makes Mike’s mind a little fuzzy. He bites his lips when Harvey nods and holds out his hand.

“Okay,” Harvey says, taking the folder from Mike. He flips it open, scans what is written on the page and holds his hand out once more.

Mike inwardly curses himself for not thinking of this earlier. He pulls a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket and hands it to Harvey.

Harvey takes the cap between his teeth and pulls it off. His lips close around the cap as his brows furrow a bit and he reads over something on the second page again. After that short pause he nods and signs the document swiftly before he pushes the pen back into its cap, closes the folder and hands both pen and file back to Mike, grinning.

“Wanna stay and watch for a bit?” Harvey’s still out of breath and his grin broadens as Mike blushes under his gaze.

Mike puts the pen back into his pocket, shaking his head. “Can’t,” he says, and there’s a sharp pain piercing his stomach for a second. It’s so acute it would have sent him to his knees if it had lasted longer. “Jessica needs those back.”

When he turns around and walks away from Harvey towards the locker room, Mike’s knees feel weak and shaky. He resists the urge to sit down on one of the wooden benches between the lockers, but he leans against the locker room door once it has closed behind him for a moment before he texts Tao to come and meet him at the gym’s entrance.

His hands till tremble when he’s settled in the back of the car and Tao drives him back to the firm. There’s a constant ringing in his ears and he still can hear the sound of Harvey’s gloves hitting the gloves and helmet of his sparring partner, he can still hear Harvey’s huffed breaths and the sounds his shoes had made on the ring’s scratched floor. He can still hear the breathlessness in Harvey’s voice, that slight hoarseness, and he can hear the other trainers barking sharp commands at their protégés, the underlying carpet of sounds at the gym he’s going to become painfully familiar with over the following weeks. He can still hear Harvey’s amused chuckle in his back and his own footsteps on the gym’s floor on his way out.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next couple of weeks Mike spends more time in the car with Tao or at the gym than in his cubicle or in Harvey’s office. Driving to Hunts Point becomes his daily routine, and more and more frequently he tells Tao that he’s okay to walk to the gym’s entrance on his own and that he can stay in the car and wait for him there. 

Mike gets used to the sounds and smells of the gym, of the dimness that envelopes him once the front door has fallen shut behind him, and to the unfriendly growl and the curt nod with which the scar-faced man behind the reception desk barely acknowledges him every time he comes to see Harvey. He gets used to the scrutinizing looks and the whistles in the locker room, and with each day that passes there are more and more gym members who greet him by name and ask him things like “Whassup?” or “How’s it going?” whenever he enters the training area and casts a look around to find Harvey.

“You’re getting popular,” Harvey says at the end of the second week without ceasing to hit the sand bag Coach Gerard is holding for him. “Don’t become too much of a distraction for them, though. I detest fighting against the compromised.”

Mike scoffs. “Jessica sends this,” he says, waving yet another manila folder next to Harvey’s head. “She said—”

“My first test fight is tomorrow,” Harvey says, still fully concentrated on hitting that sandbag. “I have no time for that. Jessica knows that.”

“Yeah, she does,” Mike says slowly, his brows furrowing into a slightly incredulous frown. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth and begins to chew on it. “I wonder—”

“Tell her you found me in top shape,” Harvey gasps between hits. “Tell her—”

“I will,” Mike interrupts, but he knows he will be telling a lie. Harvey has worked out fiercely for almost a week, constantly exercising. He has done countless weight lifts, he has run more miles than Mike has driven in the car back and forth between gym and firm, he has done push ups and pull ups and sparring sessions, and while his body is more wired and toned than Mike has ever seen before, there are dark shadows under his eyes and the outlines of his face are sharp and angled. “You should take a break.”

“No break,” Harvey says, changing his stance and favoring his other hand in the hits. “I’ll take one after the fight.”

“Tomorrow’s?”

Harvey huffs. “What do you think?”

Mike just shrugs.

“Leave that on the bench for me,” Harvey gives a half-nod in the general direction of Mike’s hand holding the folder. “I’ll sign it when I’m done here. You can come pick it up later today, in the afternoon.”

*****  
When Mike comes back the following day, a young man walks up to him as soon as he enters the training area. Harvey is weight-lifting in the far-right corner, and when he sees Mike, he puts down the barbell, rises from the bench he had been sitting on, and heads for the high bar.

“Hey, Mike,” the young man says, smiling. “Whassup?”

“How’s it going, Kyle?” Mike tries to walk around him, but Kyle is having none of that. He keeps blocking Mike’s way, even takes a step closer.

“Fantastic,” Kyle grins. “Especially now that you’re here. Even though the only guy you have eyes for is Harvey.”

“He’s my boss,” Mike says, trying once more to get past Kyle. “Listen, I have to—”

“Don’t you want to see the fight?”

“What fight?” Mike doesn’t think it’s going to help, but he tries playing dumb. Maybe—

“The training fight, Harvey’s training fight,” Kyle answers with a sly grin on his face. “It’s me he’s going to fight against, and I’d love it if you came watch.”

“Can’t,” Mike shakes his head and raises his chin a little. “Gotta get back to the firm, court date tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, Mikey,” Kyle sing-songs, stepping even closer. His scent fills Mike’s nose and he feels as if he’s going to be sick. “As my special guest. I’ll take you out for drinks, too, after. To celebrate.”

“Keep on dreaming,” Mike grits through his teeth and finally he manages to step around Kyle and make his way to the high bar where Harvey is doing pull-ups. He clears his throat and adjusts his tie as surreptitiously as he can, but of course Harvey sees it. 

“What did Durant want?” Harvey says, pulling himself up again. His skin is glistening with sweat and his t-shirt is drenched on the front and, Mike assumes, on the back as well, and he imagines a dark stain between Harvey’s shoulder blades, moving and changing with every movement Harvey makes.

Harvey quickly locks eyes with him, his chin above the bar, and raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Asked me to come see the fight,” Mike replies, opening the file folder he’s holding and leafing through it. “As his special guest.”

Harvey chuckles drily and lets go of the bar. The sound his feet make as he lands on the floor send a jolt of adrenalin through Mike’s body. Harvey reaches for the towel lying on the bench next to the high bar and runs it over his face and neck. He then brings it around to his front again and dabs it at the hollow of his throat before he tosses it over his shoulder. 

“And?”

“Not interested,” Mike says, and he can feel how he actually blushes under Harvey’s scrutinizing gaze. “Told him I have to go back to the firm. Here,” he adds after a short pause and hands Harvey the folder. “You need to sign off on this. Page one. Jessica wants this imme—”

“Jessica can wait,” Harvey says, but he takes the folder and pen Mike hands him and signs the page without even looking at it. “I’m going with you.”

“To the firm? But the fi—"

“The fight,” Harvey says and nods towards the door to the locker rooms, “won’t start for another four hours.

“I could—”

“I’m going to grab a quick shower and get dressend, and then you can brief me on what I’ve just signed off on on the way into the city.”

“I—”

Harvey walks into the locker room and Mike follows him, storing away the pen once again and checking Harvey’s signature at the same time. He nearly bumps into Harvey who has come to a stop right in front of him. His scent is so strong Mike feels as if he has actually run into something, a wall or a sand bag maybe or Harvey, but he hasn’t. Yet, the strength of Harvey’s scent makes him sway.

“Careful there,” Harvey chuckles, reaching out to steady Mike. 

“Sorry.”

Mike blinks and when Harvey lets go of his arm, he takes a step backwards, his eyes fixed on Harvey’s lips. They’re dark and glistening, and for some reason Mike can’t take his eyes off of them.

“I—”

Harvey raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, that damn smile still playing on his lips. He starts to take off his t-shirt, and Mike’s stomach lurches.

“I… I’ll wait outside. At the reception,” he adds and flees the room before Harvey can reply anything.

Once he’s in the reception area, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’m rooting for Specter,” a slightly hoarse voice interrupts Mike’s attempt to steady himself. He opens his eyes and the guy behind the counter is staring at him, chewing on a gum with a determined look on his face. “He’s your guy, right?”

“He’s my boss,” Mike says, running his palm over his face. He’s incredibly tired all of a sudden. 

“Rooting for him,” the guy repeats. “For Specter. You?”

“It’s just a training fight,” Mike says, checking his cell just so he has something to do. “It’s not—”

“It is. It always is. It always counts for something,” reception guy cuts in. “They all do, all the fights. With Alphas, every fight counts.”

“Okay,” Mike says. “If you say so.”

His eyes wander over the other man’s face, his slightly crooked nose, his cheekbones and the long scar running across his face from his temple to the corner of his mouth. He can’t help but wonder how it got there, and when.

“Son,” reception guy replies after a long, heavy pause. “I’ve been one myself all my life, believe me, I know.”

Mike swallows. He checks his phone again, wondering what is taking Harvey so goddamn long. “Okay,” he says, letting out a long, shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Name’s Sean, by the way. Sean Cahill.”

“Mike Ross.”

“Yeah, I know. Harvey Specter’s guy.”

“He’s—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. He’s your boss, I know.” Cahill chuckles and tilts his head, glancing beyond Mike’s shoulder at the locker room door. “He’s taking quite some time in there.”

“I’ll…” Mike clears his throat and points towards the door behind his back with his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll go check. See if he needs anything.”

“You go do that, son. You go ahead and do that.”

Mike can still hear Cahill’s amused chuckle as he steps back into the locker room. He freezes in his tracks at the sound of muffled voices. Harvey must have just come out of the shower, and Mike supposes he is getting dressed at one of the lockers around the corner, his locker, talking to whomever is with him.

“… deserve a little treat tonight after you’ve beaten that snotty little brat into a pulp.”

Mike doesn’t recognize the voice, but there are still dozens of gym members he hasn’t met or talked to yet.

“Sure do.” Harvey pauses a little, maybe to pull his sweater over his head. “And you can bet your ass I’m gonna get it.”

The other person laughs, and to Mike’s keen ears, it’s not a pleasant sound. It sends chills down his spine and makes his stomach churn.

“You mean that cute piece of beta-ass that’s bringing all those papers for you and that’s been looking at you with those huge, blue eyes as if you were god incarnate? If not more?”

“Nah,” Harvey says, and Mike bites his lips. “He’s…” Harvey clears his throat and there is the slightest shift in his voice that makes Mike’s brows furrow. “He’s just an associate, and I… Nah.” 

Mike can virtually see Harvey shake his head, and when he hears Harvey closing his locker, he hurries for the exit as quietly as possible. When Harvey steps into the reception area, Mike has already almost got his breathing under control again.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, rookie, ready to go?” Harvey nods at Cahill on their way out and holds the door open for Mike to step outside. “The car should be right here any se—ah, there it is.”

Harvey doesn’t wait for the driver to get out and store his bag but walks over to the rear of the car, opens the lid and drops the bag in the trunk. He takes his seat on the right back seat and rolls his eyes when Mike finally slips into the seat next to him.

“Ready?”

Mike nods. Harvey’s hair is still a little damp from the shower and his face is a little pinker than usual. The mixture of the no doubt exquisite soap and a mere residual hint of Harvey’s distinctive cologne makes his head swim.

“So,” Harvey says once he has fastened his safety belt and the car has begun to move, “here’s what you’re going to do.” He turns his head to face Mike and narrows his eyes a little before he nods. “You’re going to open a betting pool back at the firm. Have Donna help you set it up, she knows how to get the word around so—”

“A betting pool?”

Harvey rolls his eyes again and once more Mike feels exactly the rookie he is.

“For the fight,” Harvey says, staring right ahead. “The fight is as much a political event as it is a sporting competition. Name partners are made in the fight, and I need to know who was with me from the beginning when the time comes.”

“What time?”

Harvey simply rises his eyebrows and turns his head away. Mike feels as if he has just been dismissed.

“And you,” Harvey says after a couple of seconds, startling Mike out of the hint of calm that had just been beginning to settle over him, “ _you_ are going to join Sean’s.”

Mike frowns.

“Cahill’s,” Harvey adds, and it sounds as if he’s talking to a not too bright child. “He has one running at the gym as well. A betting pool.”

“And you want me—”

“It’s politics everywhere,” Harvey says. “And I need everyone at the gym to know that you are my guy. Place five thousand.”

“I—” Mike swallows and bites his lips. “I don’t have… I don’t have that kind of money.”

“What happened to the 25k I gave you as your signing bonus?” Harvey doesn’t sound annoyed this time, just a little exasperated.

“Told you,” Mike murmurs, picking at a small piece of skin at the side of his nail. “Grandmother. She had to be moved to—”

“Here.” 

Harvey reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and hands Mike a thick unlabeled envelope. 

“You carry—”

“What did I tell you about reading people?”

Now Mike is almost sure he can hear a slight grin in Harvey’s question. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes and turn his head away. His reflection in the town car’s tainted window shows a pale face with a slowly spreading smile.

“Don’t you know that I’m your guy?”

“ _I_ do. But I need the others to know that, too. I—”

“Everyone does already think that, don’t they. They think we…”

A short, sharp huff from Harvey and the slightest of movements in Mike’s back. He keeps staring out of the window, staring at his own reflection, rather the crease between his brows and his thin, white lips. No smile anymore anywhere near that mouth.

“You heard.”

“Yeah,” Mike says, closing his eyes for a short moment, if only to get those thin, white lips off his mind for a while. “Yeah, I heard.”

Harvey clears his throat and for a moment Mike thinks he’s going to say something, but all he does is nod, Mike can see that in the window when he opens his eyes again.

“Alpha-talk,” Harvey murmurs after a while.

“Yeah,” Mike says again and turns around again, reaching for the messenger bag at his feet. “Alpha-talk. Now, about that case…”

*****

Mike opens the betting pool at the firm as he has been told with the help of Donna as soon as Harvey disappears in Jessica’s office. Donna promises she’ll make sure everyone knows within the hour – both that the pool exists and that it is Mike who’s running it. 

From the corner of his eyes Mike can see Jessica’s hand on Harvey’s shoulder as he walks by her office about an hour after they’ve arrived. His stomach tightens and he bites his lips. It’s weird, watching people touch Harvey, it seems out of place in a way, wrong, and Mike doesn’t understand why. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut for a quick second before he turns around and knocks on Jessica’s door.

“Fight starts in two,” he says when Jessica looks up and Harvey turns around to look at him. “We’ll need at least an hour to get back there and you need to change and get warmed up before—”

“Text the car,” Harvey says, and Jessica nods. “We’ll leave in five.”

They spend most of the drive back to the gym in silence, Harvey with his eyes closed and his breathing soft and even, and Mike with his fingers and stomach in knots. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Harvey murmurs when they’re about halfway there, and Mike cringes at the slight exasperation in his voice. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” Mike hurries to say, trying to will his muscles to relax. “I—” He stops mid-sentence and freezes when he feels a burning weight on his lower arm. Harvey’s hand.

“I said, stop fidgeting.”

Harvey’s voice is warm and reassuring now but there’s something else swinging in his words, something that makes Mike’s mouth go dry and his heart miss yet another beat. It speaks to something buried deep inside of him, something that is everywhere at once all of a sudden, filling Mike to the brim with a deep, pulsing calm. 

Mike sighs and closes his eyes, leaning back in his seat. His whole body is humming with the reaction to Harvey’s words, his every sense tuned to Harvey’s presence. 

“What—”

“Relax.”

Mike doesn’t even notice when Harvey withdraws his hand. He feels as if he’s floating, yet at the same time more anchored to this world than he’s ever been. 

“Good boy,” he hears Harvey murmur in the distance, and he has to bite his lips to stifle a moan. It takes him a few moments to realize that he’s aroused, that he’s already on the verge of coming. He bites his lips harder, trying to ward off his body’s response to Harvey’s spell. He can’t have this happening, not now, not ever. It’s the last thing he needs, an Alpha who speaks to him, it’s the last thing he’s ever needed, the last thing he’s ever wanted, and he’s not going to let a couple of words ruin a lifetime of defense against this very thing. He’s not.

Harvey seems to be completely unaware of the effect his words are having on Mike. He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and starts scrolling while Mike slowly recovers from the onslaught of sensations, breathing his way back into the here and now.

“Did you have the contract sent over to Loughton Pharma?” Harvey asks, and Mike swallows around the tightness in his throat. 

“Yeah.” He feels sick to his stomach, and a small moan falls from his lips when the car brakes rather abruptly at a traffic light. He’s already going into withdrawal, after only a few moments of allowing this fatal thing to take hold of him. “Yeah, right after I opened the pool. We should have them signed by tomorrow.”

“Good,” Harvey says, storing his phone away again. “Get them to me as soon as they arrive.”

Mike nods and exhales with relief when the car turns right into the gym’s parking lot. As soon as Harvey has gotten out of the car, he closes his eyes again and wipes his face with clammy, trembling hands. His fingers are still tingling but thankfully his erection has gone down. He needs to put a stop to this, to whatever this is, he has to nip it in the bud before there’s any further damage.

A sharp knock against his window shakes him back to consciousness. 

“You coming?”

Harvey’s voice penetrates the window but Mike’s defenses are up again. It doesn’t get through his skin this time. He’s back in business.


	5. Chapter 5

Watching the fight is pure torture. True, Harvey is in amazing shape, he’s alert, quick, bouncing on his feet, and his movements are as precise as they can be. From the time he’s spent at the gym so far, Mike has already learned a lot about boxing, about a sport he’s had almost zero knowledge of before, and he doesn’t even have to look at the judges to know that Harvey is excelling. 

It’s not that Kyle isn’t in good shape as well, he is, and he’s at least ten years younger than Harvey. His body is toned and he’s fast, but he’s not in charge of this fight, not even for a second. 

Yes, he does manage to land some blows to Harvey’s body and even one to his face, and Mike thinks that’s just because Harvey lets him somehow. But still, every one of those blows feels like a direct hit to Mike’s solar plexus. By the time the fight enters the eighth round, Mike feels as if he’s going to throw up.

Harvey has a taped cut on his brow from the only time Kyle has managed to hit him there and he’s drenched in sweat. He has dark patches on his front and on his back, and his face and his throat are glistening. The scent he emanates makes Mike dizzy and causes his skin to prickle, and he wishes he was able to smell anything else, anything but this.

Of course, in the end Harvey wins, and when he has spit out his mouth piece, taken off his gloves and handed them to Mike, Mike can’t help but blurt out: “Why didn’t you knock him out in the first round? You could easily have—”

“Wanted the practice,” Harvey pants, still slightly out of breath. “Believe it or not, but this is going to get tougher. And you don’t run a marathon without proper training either.”

Mike nods. He steals a glance to his side, at Harvey’s sweaty face and at the cut on his brow. He winces.

“It’s nothing,” Harvey says, wiping his forehead with the back of his still bandaged hand. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Mike murmurs, pulling his lower lip between his teeth and worrying it slightly. “Maybe you should—”

“Stop fretting, for fuck’s sake,” Harvey sighs. He unbandages his hands and tosses the bandages at Mike. He reaches for the bottle he’s left on the bank and drains it in greedy gulps. “Dominic is an excellent cut man, the best there is. What the hell is wrong with you.”

Mike can’t tear his eyes away from Harvey’s bobbing Adam’s apple. “Nothing,” he says. “All’s good.”

Harvey tosses the bottle at him as well and he barely catches it, his hands still full with the gloves and the bandages. 

“Shower,” Harvey says, grinning. “Then home. Me, home. You, firm.”

_What are you going to eat,_ Mike wants to ask, and but he keeps his mouth shut and merely nods. 

The car drops him at the firm and he finishes up his day’s work while the driver takes Harvey god knows where to ‘celebrate’. Mike forces himself to focus on the papers in front of him and not to think of what that might mean. He isn’t interested and he most certainly doesn’t care. Harvey is just Harvey, just his boss, just another Alpha who doesn’t need to know what Mike really is. Who doesn’t need to know what his voice, his words, his presence have done to Mike just a couple of hours earlier – that they’ve turned his entire world upside down.

This night, Mike dreams of that voice, those words and that presence, and when he wakes up in the middle of that dream, his pajama bottoms are sticky and his body aches with longing. 

*****

If Mike had thought the last couple of days had been hectic, what goes down the days following Harvey’s training fight against Kyle teaches him an entirely different lesson. Long hours at the firm with not just one, but on most days two or three trips to the gym, telephone conferences and skype calls in the town car on his way back and forth, client meetings in restaurants halfway or in the evenings at the firm, little food, less sleep. If anything, it helps Mike to distance himself from Harvey again, to forget that moment of weakness, of bodily betrayal in the car on the day of the fight. 

There is no time to dream, no time to long and most certainly no time to want. 

At the end of the week after the fight Mike is so exhausted he falls asleep in the car or on his bench at the gym, only to startle awake again a second later. There’re contracts to get signed, briefs to proof, papers to be sent, received and reviewed, precedents to be found and many, many more problems to be solved. More than one night, Mike stays at the office because he doesn’t trust himself on his bike and because there is no time to spare. He sleeps under the table in the file room or on the sofa in Harvey’s office, helping himself to the shaving kit in Harvey’s drawer in the morning. 

Of course, Harvey notices. 

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” He asks, raising his eyebrows when Mike approaches the ring at the gym one Tuesday morning, his eyes burning and his skin tight with tension and fatigue. Harvey is sparring with someone Mike doesn’t recognize, Coach Gerrard watching him closely from the other side of the ring.

Mike shakes his head and hands Harvey a folder with papers to sign. Harvey unties his right boxing glove by pulling at the lace with his teeth, the folder tucked under his left arm. Mike tells him that he needs to get those papers back to Jessica by noon, latest.

Harvey frowns. He takes his other glove off, and Mike reaches out to take the gloves from Harvey as usual, looking up at him through the ropes of the ring. He watches Harvey’s eyes narrow and his nostrils flare a little. Harvey inhales, and then his eyes narrow even more.

Mike doesn’t understand why, but he suddenly feels ice-cold, and then the next moment he feels flushed as if doused head to toe in hot, scalding water. Harvey’s stare is penetrating his skin and his ears are filled with white noise.

“Go home,” Harvey hisses, closing the file and clenching his teeth. “Now.”

“What?” Mike gasps, his head swimming and his vision blurry. “I—”

“You’re going into heat,” Harvey adds, taking a small step closer. Mike’s heart is beating out of his chest. 

“What? That’s impossible. I’m—”

“You’re an omega,” Harvey says, and Mike can’t make out if the slight bewilderment in Harvey’s voice is part of a question or of an accusation. “And you’re going into heat. If you want to make it out of here alive, you need to leave now. Before anybody else notices.”

Mike takes a quick glance around. “Shit,” he murmurs when he realizes that Harvey has to be right. “I must have forgotten—”

“Go,” Harvey interrupts, nodding towards the door to the locker room. “Go home, lock the door. Don’t let anybody in till it’s over. Besides, you know, whom you usually—”

“There isn’t anyone,” Mike cuts in, resenting how small he sounds, how vulnerable. “There is… nobody.”

Harvey shifts. Mike can see how the blood is rushing through Harvey’s veins, how his skin is pulsing with his heartbeat. His nostrils flair again and he takes a step backwards.

“You—”

“Never,” Mike says, and he can feel himself blush. “I’ve… I’ve been on suppressants since I turned seven. I’ve never…” He falls silent. There is nothing left to say.

“Shit,” Harvey hisses and presses the back of his hand against the underside of his nose. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can. Don’t let anyone in but me.”

Mike wants to protest but Harvey’s stare sends him flying towards the locker room and past the reception into the backseat of the car. He searches his memories, trying to remember when he slipped, but his eidetic memory is no match against his brain’s and body’s chemistry.

Sweat is pooling at the nape of his neck and he wipes his hands against his upper legs again and again. He can still smell Harvey, he can smell where Harvey has been sitting right there, right next to him in the backseat of the car just the day before and the day before that. He can smell the leather of Harvey’s boxing gloves against his palms, and the burst of arousal that surges through his body is so bright he has to squeeze his eyes shut against its burning intensity.

He is throbbing as his fingertips run over the smooth leather covering the seat next to him. He bites his lips so hard he tastes blood. This can’t be happening, it simply can’t. He wants, he wants so much it hurts, his whole body yearns for something he doesn’t dare to name – and at the same time, all he wants, all he so desperately wants is not to want.

As soon as he has fled the car and up the stairs, as soon as he has locked his apartment behind himself, he drops his messenger bag, collapses against the door to his apartment and slides down to the floor. He’s drenched in sweat and his cock is throbbing between his legs. Biting back a moan, he buries his face in his hands. His palms are wet – with sweat or with tears, he doesn’t know.

He sits like that for god knows how long, biting his fists to keep his hands from reaching into his trousers and finishing himself off. When he’s finally able to think a little clearer, he gets up and sheds his clothes right there and then, leaving them lying on the floor just like that, and makes for the bathroom. 

The cold shower isn’t really cold enough, the water lukewarm at best, and the rivulets running down his body drive him to the edge of reason. He knows he should just get it over with, should just give in and let it happen, since there is no stopping this anyway, but years and years of conditioning his mind to avoid this make it impossible for him to let go.

As soon as his fingers close around his cock, he uncurls them again, gripping tight hold of the pipes of his shower, squeezing his eyes shut. He should call someone. He knows that there’s an agency for that, every closeted omega knows that, and he could get the money somehow to pay an Alpha to… He should call someone before Harvey gets here, before it really is too late. 

He doesn’t dare dry himself off properly, his cock is too sensitive and his skin seems to be just one single erogenous zone. So, he simply slips into a pair of soft jogging pants and a well-worn t-shirt, runs his fingers through his wet hair and makes his way to couch. When he sinks down into it, he moans. He’s beginning to leak, a sensation so foreign to him even the thought of it makes him queasy.

He reaches for his phone and opens the browser. There’s not just one agency, there are many. He scrolls down, names flashing by, but before he can click on one of the links, there are firm footsteps on the stairs and in the corridor outside his apartment, and then, when the footsteps have stopped, there’s a knock on his door.


	6. Chapter 6

“Mike.”

Harvey. 

Mike shakes his head.

“Open the door.”

It should be anyone but him. Anyone but the one person who has the power to put everything Mike has ever worked and fought for in jeopardy simply by being him. His Alpha. Because that’s what this has to be. Harvey is his match, the one, of course he is, and Mike balls his hands into fists so hard that his nails pierce the skin of his palms.

“You’re bleeding,” Harvey says on the other side of the door, and Mike curses himself inwardly. Of course. Harvey can smell that, can smell him, even through that door. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Mike grits through his teeth. “I’m fine. Go home.”

Mike can hear Harvey shift, and Harvey’s scent is beginning to seep inside.

“I said, go home.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“I’m not here to discuss this, Mike. Open the door _now_.”

There it is again. That tone in Harvey’s voice that goes straight to Mike’s body, bypassing his mind, making it bend to whatever Harvey says, to whatever Harvey wants, to whatever _he_ wants, making it _want_ to bend, for all that it’s worth.

Mike squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment and bites back another moan, rising from the sofa. He thinks that it has to be visible how wet he already is, and then he shakes his head at himself. Harvey doesn’t need to see. He can smell it from the other side of the door, just like Mike can smell him. Stronger, even.

“Okay,” he murmurs, trying to ignore how weak his knees feel as he walks over to the door. “Okay.”

He opens the door and leans his forehead against its side, staring at the floor. “Why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here,” Harvey says, and Mike’s cock twitches in his pants. He can feel how more of his slick leaks from his hole, preparing itself to be fucked, preparing for the Alpha out there in the hallway, just half a step away. Mike can feel himself blush.

“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath, blushing even further. “I know. But I don’t want—”

“It’s not about what you want anymore, Mike, it’s about what you need. You need—you shouldn’t have to do this alone, especially not if this really is your first heat. You… You could get hurt.”

“I know,” Mike says again. “I was going to call someone. An agency. I—”

“You don’t have to do that,” Harvey says and takes the tiniest step closer. It almost takes Mike’s breath away. “You know tha—”

“Fuck,” Mike hisses and grabs Harvey’s sleeve. His knees feel incredibly weak, his whole body yearns to lie down and to bare himself to the Alpha. “I’m—” He bites his lips to stifle another moan. For a second panic shoots through him, because for a second he thinks he’s going to come right there and then. “Oh shit, I think—”

When Harvey takes another little step closer, almost closing the distance between them, Mike’s eyes flutter shut and he tilts his head to the side, exposing his throat. “Please don’t,” he whispers, and his words hurt so much it almost brings tears to his eyes. “Whatever I do or say, please don’t make us bond.”

It seems just like a small detail to him now, but the last lucid part of his brain clings to it like a drowning man would cling to a life raft. 

Harvey cups his cheek, and his palm is warm, so warm, and Mike is sure it’s going to leave a burning red mark right there on his face. 

“You’ll beg me for it later,” Harvey says, and his words are even warmer. 

Mike nods, and Harvey’s hand slides from Mike’s cheek to his exposed throat. Mike’s pulse is hard and fast, and when Harvey’s thumb brushes over his jugular, it misses a beat. 

“I know. Promise me.”

“I promise,” Harvey replies after a short pause, and Mike exhales shakily. 

“Thank you.”

Harvey’s hand moves a little lower, the tips of his fingers sneaking under the loose collar of Mike’s t-shirt, making Mike gasp. “Oh god…”

“You smell incredible,” Harvey murmurs, leaning in and inhaling deeply. Mike can feel the warmth Harvey’s body radiates, and it’s fueling the hunger inside of him, the hunger of his heat. 

“You’re making it worse,” Mike moans as his hips jerk and his erection brushes against Harvey’s hip. It’s like a bolt of lightning, even through the two layers of clothes still separating them. 

Harvey chuckles, Mike can’t believe that Harvey actually chuckles while he himself feels as if he’s dying from starvation.

When Harvey’s hand moves to Mike’s face again, cupping his jaw and tilting his face upwards, Mike bites his lips so hard it hurts. There’s a huge lump in his throat, and Mike is afraid that the moan he’s holding back will fall from his lips despite his efforts like a sobbing plea. 

“Look at me,” Harvey says, and Mike’s eyes yield to his voice before Mike has even had the time to fully process what Harvey’s words mean. 

“I’m not just doing this for you,” Harvey says, and his thumb traces Mike’s lips gently, carefully, until Mike relaxes a little and his mouth opens a bit. “I’m doing this for myself as well,” he adds, smiling that infuriatingly subtle smile of his that Mike has categorized as ‘for worthy adversaries’, ‘for the most beautiful jazz’ and ‘for Mccallan 25’. Now, it’s for him. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”

“It’s—” Mike swallows against the lump in his throat once more, and Harvey’s thumb immediately finds his way between Mike’s burning lips. “That’s because of the heat,” he whispers, and Harvey’s smile intensifies.

“Yeah,” Harvey says, leaning in again and taking a deep breath. “But not only because of that.”

Mike’s knees wobble, but before he can sink to the ground, Harvey’s arm has wrapped around his waist, holding him steady. Harvey’s hard as well, Mike can feel that, and his cock twitches in response. 

He leans his forehead against Harvey’s shoulder, and a shiver runs through him as Harvey’s hand comes to rest at the small of his back. “Please,” he moans, and Harvey’s hand moves even lower. “Oh god, please…”

A sharp inhale falls from Harvey’s chest as his fingertips touch the wet patch on the back of Mike’s pants. He pulls Mike closer, his fingers digging into Mike’s cleft through the soaked fabric, and that’s it for Mike. His orgasm hits him like a punch to the gut, it washes over him without a warning and with a force that would have him falling if it weren’t for Harvey’s arm and body keeping him from it. The intensity of it makes Mike dizzy and blocks out everything but the sensation of painful pleasure and longing and the scent of the Alpha holding him close. 

And while Mike’s shutting down brain keeps first yelling then merely whispering _Harvey, it’s Harvey, Harvey, Harvey,_ that’s all his body screams for now, it screams for the Alpha, any Alpha, this Alpha, _his_ Alpha, and that’s probably the worst part of it all, that his body has already accepted what Mike has tried to fight for all those years.

He briefly wonders what is taking Harvey so long, but then he’s naked and on his stomach, and Harvey is naked, too, and through his own desperate begging Mike can hear Harvey’s relieved moan when he buries himself in Mike’s warm, wet heat bit by agonizing bit. It takes him forever to fill Mike completely, but when he does, Mike stops for a moment. His thoughts stop, his movements, the sounds he makes, everything. And when Harvey begins to swell inside of him, another orgasm takes hold of him, even more violent and overwhelming than the first, and so intense he sees stars. 

“Oh my god,” he murmurs when he can speak again, and Harvey’s arms close around him from behind. “I never—”

Harvey moves, just the subtlest of shifts, and Mike comes again, helplessly whimpering through the waves of climax in Harvey’s arms. Harvey’s heart is beating wildly against Mike’s back and the sensation of Harvey nosing at the nape of his neck nearly drives him insane. He wishes he could stop moaning, stop writhing, stop begging Harvey for more, but he can’t. He’s being burnt alive, and every touch, every lick of Harvey’s tongue, every single pulse of Harvey’s cock inside of him makes him crave Harvey even more.

And Harvey gives. He never stops giving, taking care of Mike even when Mike is too exhausted to move or whenever his heat rises while he’s asleep, his body a burning slave to his desperate need. He never stops moving, never stops filling Mike, never stops pushing him over the edge when Mike can’t take it anymore. There is not one moment all through the night Harvey isn’t inside of him, and whenever he moves and expands inside of Mike, whenever Mike feels Harvey’s knot swelling, his body reacts with an even greater hunger.

By the end of the night, well into the morning of the following day, Mike’s entire body is tingling and he’s hypersensitive everywhere even though his skin and his muscles feel almost numb at first touch. His screams of need and pleasure have become hoarse and now all Harvey has to do is to stroke Mike’s arm lightly with his fingertips, to murmur his name or ‘mine’, to moan against Mike’s skin or to move just the smallest bit inside of him to set of another wave of heat or another orgasm or both at the same time. 

When Mike is too exhausted to come, Harvey’s fingers close around his still achingly hard cock and send him over the edge once more, Mike’s warm, sticky come covering them just like his slick has coated Harvey’s legs and groin.

When the sun comes up, Mike feels drained and filled at the same time and as much belonging to another person as he ever has. Harvey has made him his, truly and entirely during the night, even though his teeth never broke Mike’s skin. 

“I think,” Mike croaks when he finally regains some sort of command of his breath and of his words, “I think it’s over.”

“Hmmmm,” Harvey hums against the base of his neck and proves him oh so wrong once more. It takes another three or four hours until Harvey can leave, another couple of times that Mike has to beg for him to stay and to fill him again, and when he does finally leave, he turns around before he walks through the door, dark shadows around his eyes and his lips cracked and swollen. “Take the day,” he says. “Meet me at the gym tomorrow morning.”

Mike nods and lets his eyes fall shut, Harvey’s semen seeping from his hole and his cock still twitching a little against the insides of his fingers. The door falling shut and Harvey’s footsteps in the hallway are the last things he hears before he sinks into heavy, blissful unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

The sun seems brighter on Mike’s way to the gym the following day, the colors more intense and the corners sharper. There’s a scent in the air Mike has never smelled before, and he’s hyperaware of his surroundings. It’s not that the sounds or the city are too loud or the movements out on the streets too fast, it’s just that they’re more beautiful and more real than they’ve ever been before.

The gym, though, stinks, and Sean’s scar looks a bit angrier today, a little redder and maybe a little swollen, and Mike wonders what made that happen. 

The stench of Alpha in the locker room is almost unbearable, but then, between all those pheromones, Mike smells something that causes an instant calm to settle over him, a scent he knows, a scent that grounds him immediately: Harvey’s scent.

Harvey stops sparring the second Mike steps into the gym, but then he starts again, watching Mike walk across the room to his ring from the corners of his eyes. As soon as Mike has reached the ringside bench and prepares to sit down, Harvey looks at him and nods.

Mike walks up to the ring under Harvey’s intense scrutiny. “I’m—“

“What’s the status of the Dennington negotiations?” Harvey asks, loosening the laces of his right glove by taking it between his teeth and pulling, a gesture so familiar to Mike by now it’s bordering on painful. “Have they sent over the files we requested?”

“Have them with me in the car,” Mike replies, nodding and holding Harvey’s gaze for a moment before averting his eyes. He can feel himself blush and he curses himself inwardly. Harvey obviously is over and done with the whole thing, and he should be as well.

He nods again. “I reviewed them in the car on my way here. I can brief you while we—”

“You can brief me over lunch,” Harvey cuts in, taking off his gloves and unwrapping the bandages around his hands. Mike can’t stop staring at Harvey’s fingertips, his fingers, his palms, his thumb. Harvey’s hands have been all over him just a day ago, around his cock, in his mouth and in his hole the few times Harvey had to pull out. He can’t stop staring at Harvey’s lips. 

“I—”

“I need to get back to the firm for a meeting at four, and I want you to come with me, I need a second set of ears. After that, I’ll go back to the gym for another sparring session, and you can go over the transcripts of last week’s depositions.”

“Okay,” Mike nods, frowning. _So, it’s just back to business, just like that._ Something inside of him closes off at that thought, something that hurts so deep inside of him he almost doesn’t notice.

“Wait for me in the car,” Harvey says as they make their way through the gym towards the locker rooms. There is a note of anger in his words that makes Mike’s head snap up.

He immediately notices several heads quickly turning away, eyes lingering on him for just a little while longer. 

“They’re staring at me.”

“Wait in the car. I’ll be out in a bit. Don’t stop and talk to Sean, just get into the car and stay there.”

“Okay,” Mike murmurs as Harvey disappears behind a wall of lockers. “I’ll just wait there then.”

He’s leafing through one of the files he’s brought with him when Harvey opens the door on his side and slides into the backseat a quarter of an hour later. Harvey smells of his soap and of water and so much of himself it makes Mike’s stomach lurch. He needs to get over this, as over it as Harvey is, and he needs to get over it soon.

“So,” Mike says, clearing his throat to focus his thoughts. “I think I just found exactly what we need. It seems as if…”

They pull up in front of _Il Cygno_ almost as soon as he’s finished filling Harvey in on his findings, and Harvey insists on ordering steaks for them once they’re inside even though Mike feels more like having pasta, and when the food finally arrives, Mike realizes that Harvey was spot on right with his choice. This is, without a single shred of doubt, the best steak he’s ever had, and it fills him with a satisfaction that truly surprises him.

“This was so good,” he murmurs around the last bite, chuckling at Harvey’s raised eyebrows. “I couldn’t eat a thing more, I swear.”

Harvey just raises his eyebrows even further and motions for the waiter to bring them the dessert menu. 

When they’ve finished their espressos, Harvey leans back in his chair and catches Mike’s eyes. It’s an easy catch and Mike finds himself thoroughly hooked. 

“Mike,” Harvey says, and a shiver runs through Mike’s body at the sound of that one word. 

“Yeah?”

“I want us to do it again.”

“What? You— _what?_ ”

“That night. Your heat. I want us to do that again.”

“No.” 

The word is out of Mike’s mouth before he can even think it. “No. Harvey, _no_.”

“Mike—”

“I’m… It’s never going to happen again. I… I’ll be more careful from now on. I’m… I’m not going to let it happen again, so… So, you don’t have to worry about it. About me, I mean.”

“Mike,” Harvey says when Mike falls silent, and there it is again, that tone that makes Mike melt. “I’m not worried about you. This is as much about me as it is—”

“No,” Mile says again, shaking his head. “I—I’ve worked my whole life to not need this, to not need any of that, and I’m not going to give that up just like that. My life, I mean. I… I’m not going to become an omega.”

“You _are_ an omega,” Harvey states calmly, and Mike frowns.

“Not really,” he murmurs, staring ad how he’s rolling the fabric of the napkin between his fingers. “Not if I—Not really.”

Mike doesn’t look up for the longest time, for as long as he thinks Harvey is still looking at him, and when he finally does look up, he finds Harvey’s eyes still resting on him, searching his face. 

After a few seconds of silence, Harvey nods. “Okay, Mike.”

“Can—“ Mike coughs and takes a sip from his glass of water before he speaks again. “Can you find someone else? Someone else to come to the gym with the papers from now on, I mean? Can you find another associate?”

“No,” Harvey says, folding his napkin and placing it next to his plate. He nods at the waiter and settles the bill, not looking at Mike once. It makes the look he does give Mike over the roof of the car before they drive to the firm weigh so much heavier.

*****

Mike tries to keep his distance from that moment on, at least as much as he can and as much as the circumstances allow him to. He still travels back and forth between the firm and the gym a lot, bringing files for Harvey to review during his training breaks, getting his signature, giving him updates of the goings on at the firm, but he talks less and waits in the car or at the reception more often than he has before. 

Every time he enters the gym, or the locker room, for that matter, one or more of the other boxers approach him, asking him questions about what he does for a living or how things stand at the firm, about Harvey, patting him on the back or casually placing a hand on his arm, and whenever Harvey sees that, whenever one of the other Alphas talks to Mike, his features harden and his hits against the sandbag or against his sparring partner’s defense become harder and more angry. 

“Stop flirting,” Harvey hisses one day, walking up to Mike and a tall, muscular Alpha, a junior partner at Bratton Gould, laughing together, the Alpha’s hand on Mike’s upper arm. 

Mike takes a step backwards, once more his body’s reaction faster than his brain, and the Alpha, Chris, straightens his back and squares his shoulders. 

“Why?” 

Harvey’s head snaps around, and the stare he gives Chris could make the Great Wall of China come tumbling down. 

“And you are…?”

Chris manages to hide his fear pretty well, Mike has to give him that, but he can still sense it as clearly as he can still feel the touch of Chris’ hand on his arm.

“Christopher Segal,” he replies, raising his chin. His voice wavers only the slightest bit, but when Harvey raises his eyebrows and tilts his head a little, he recoils visibly. “Junior partner at—”

“I know who you are,” Harvey cuts in, making it clear that his question wasn’t really a question. “Leave him alone.”

“Why?”

Mike can’t help but admire Chris’ bravery. _But,_ he thinks to himself, _that’s probably the Alpha way_. He only hopes that Chris isn’t one of Harvey’s opponents in one of the upcoming fights. The official tournament starts tomorrow, and Harvey has an excellent memory. 

“Because I’m telling you to.”

The stare down continues for a couple of seconds until Harvey’s eyes narrow just the smallest bit and Chris breaks eye contact. His gaze drops to his shoes for a moment before he looks up again and nods. Then he turns around leaves without another word.

“Why did you do that,” Mike asks, and Harvey scoffs. 

“What have you got for me?” He nods at the manila folder Mike is carrying under his arm. When Mike hands him the file, Harvey frowns. “You look like you didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“I didn’t,” Mike admits. “They sent over all their files on the case yesterday, as requested, and you wanted the run-down on them today, so…”

Harvey nods and quickly leafs through the papers in the folder.

“See that you get some sleep tonight,” he murmurs, not looking up. “I want you at the fight tomorrow night.”

Harvey is going to have to fight Kyle again in his first official match, so Mike doesn’t really understand why Harvey wants him there. He’s already seen him fight Kyle and they both know he’s no match for Harvey, even though he’s a lot younger.

“Why?”

“Because,” Harvey sighs and finally looks up and locks eyes with Mike, the intensity of his stare making Mike blush, “because it would look strange if you weren’t there. Speaking of which, how are the pools going?”

Mike swallows and clears his throat. “All bets are on you at the firm,” he says, his lips curling into a slight grin. “Except for Louis. He has his money on Tanner to win and you to place second.”

“Louis,” Harvey grins, and Mike’s heart misses a beat, “is an idiot.”

“Yeah.” Mike takes the folder from Harvey’s hand again, his grin fading. “You are at the highest odds at Sean’s pool as well, but there’s quite a fraction betting on Tanner and a few bets are on Sanders as well.”

Harvey snorts at the mention of the name Sanders and shakes his head. “Good,” he says, and nods towards the locker room door. “Now get back to the firm, finish up drafting the contract, get some sleep and be at the venue an hour before the fight tomorrow. Come see me in my dressing room when you’re here.”

“Okay,” Mike says, watching Harvey turn away and walk back to the ring where Coach Gerard is waiting for him with another of his folded and slightly crumpled pieces of paper in his hand. That man has been a riddle wrapped in an enigma to Mike from the day he first met him, and that hasn’t changed over the last few weeks. 

The dressing rooms, right. Sean had mentioned that the other day. As soon as the tournament officially kicks off the event moves to another venue, a proper boxing arena with a proper auditorium, and , all the contestants get their own dressing rooms. Mike only hopes that Coach will be there as well tomorrow, and Dominic, Harvey’s cut man, maybe even Sean, who, as he has told Mike as well when Mike had placed his 5k bet on Harvey, has “a small fortune” placed on Harvey to win the whole thing with Tanner coming in in second place. “Everyone knows it will be Tanner vs. Specter in the end,” he had said, his eyes glittering with playful excitement. “Harvey’s been in the finale for the last three years and he’s won all three of them. Not like the bout they fought during their rookie days at Harvard, that one Tanner won, so—”

“He lost to Tanner in their first fight?” Mike’s surprise had to have been written on his face, because Sean had burst into a short dry laugh. 

“Yeah,” he had said, searching Mike’s face carefully. “Didn’t sit too well with your guy, as you probably can imagine. He’s worked his ass off ever since to not let it come to that again. So, this is a huge thing for him, to make it four in a row, especially against Tanner. It might look like a game and it might look easy, but it is not, son. Trust me on that one.”

“You think?”

“I _know_.” Sean reaches behind his head and scratches the back of his head. “Listen,” he adds after a short pause. “I’ve known Harvey Specter for over ten years now. This is important to him. For more reasons than one.”

Mike pulls his lower lip between his teeth and worries it a little. There’s something about the way Sean just said that that makes him think.

“So. He say he wants you there before the match?”

Mike nods.

“Good,” Sean says. “Bring him a Gatorade. He loves to sip on one before a fight but he’d never let anyone know. He’s afraid they’d think him too pansy.”

“How do you know, then?”

Sean’s hand hesitates a little before it comes up to rub his chin. “Told you,” Sean mumbles, locking eyes with Mike for a split second. “Known him for ten years.”

Mike’s chest tightens, and for a moment all he can see is the scar running across Sean’s face.

“Ever fight him?”

“Yeah,” Sean grins crookedly. “Once. But not like that.”

“Who won?”

Sean’s grin broadens. “What do you think?”

Mike grins back and shakes his head. “I’d better get going.”

Sean nods. “See you tomorrow, son,” he says, and returns his attention to the little tv screen sitting on the reception’s counter. “Bring some Gatorade. He’ll love that.”


	8. Chapter 8

This night, Mike dreams of Harvey. He dreams of sparring with him at the gym, of fighting against him under the blindingly bright lights of a boxing ring, the cheering and booing from the audience nothing more than white noise in Mike’s ears, and Harvey’s scent overpowering every other sensation.

He dreams of a blow Harvey lands to his chin, sharp and disorienting, and another one that goes straight to his gut the second Mike lowers his defenses. He can’t breathe, he can’t see clearly, his mouth feels dry and his throat impossibly tight, and he has to turn around and lean against the ringside ropes to keep himself from falling down. The referee is saying something to Mike, probably asking him a question, and then he starts to count down, at least that’s what Mike thinks he’s doing. Then, all of a sudden, every other sound is muted when Harvey places his hand, suddenly glove-free, on Mike’s shoulder, leans in and starts to speak to Mike with that tone in his voice that Mike has come to both love and hate at the same time.

“Mike,” Harvey says, and it’s like the invisible rope around his throat has just disappeared. “Come with me. Let’s get you home. I’ll take care of you.”

“No…” Mike shakes his head, feeling a little dizzy from the abrupt movement, and Harvey’s hand on his shoulder gets a little heavier. “I’m okay, I don’t need—”

“Come here,” Harvey says and turns Mike around to pull him close. Harvey’s body is warm and solid, and Mike’s just melts against it, Mike just melts, and as soon as he closes his eyes and sinks against Harvey’s chest, the warmth Harvey radiates fills him to the very brim. He can feel the muscles guarding his hole loosen and his cock swell. Maybe he doesn’t need this, maybe that’s not what this is all about, maybe he wants… Maybe he just _wants_ …

A long, warm, slowly building climax wakes Mike from his sleep, washing over him again and again, his apartment filling up with moans and pants, his fingers fisting into the fabric of his sheets as he comes and comes and comes, Harvey’s scent everywhere, Harvey’s touch and Harvey’s voice, and the sensation of Harvey filling him like that is so painfully sweet Mike has to close his eyes again. He has to close his eyes and just let it happen, and when his orgasm finally subsides a little, when he finally comes down a bit, he realizes that he is begging, that he’s murmuring _please, oh please_ over and over again, desperately clinging to that overwhelming sensation that washes all his hunger away as if it were nothing.

“Shit,” Mike whispers, raising his head and looking down his body. His pajama bottoms are soaked through and the sheets are drenched with sweat. His chin hurts as if he’s been hit. His muscles feel far too relaxed for him to move and the tension caused by the way he’s still holding his up makes his cock jerk again. “Oh shit,” he repeats as his head falls back into the pillows and a residual wave of climax runs through him. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…”

His sleep during the rest of the night is deep, heavy and dreamless, but he wakes up just as tired the following morning.

*****

The next day at the firm starts early and it’s so busy Mike almost forgets to buy some Gatorade for Harvey. Tao reminds him on their way to the gym, Mike must have mentioned it the day before on their way home after his conversation with Sean. 

When Mike enters the venue, he stops dead in his tracks for a moment, startled by how much the room differs from the training gym. The seats have been arranged to form a square-shaped spectators’ area and there is only one ring in the center. 

There are already a couple of people here, sitting on the benches close to the ring, whispering. _They’re probably comparing odds,_ Mike thinks, and he wonders how low Kyle’s are in their books. 

Sean is busy taking some last minute bets for this fight and the judges are inspecting the ring.

_The weigh-in must have taken place last night or this morning,_ Mike thinks, and he feels a slight irritation at the fact that he doesn’t know. He should have been there, he thinks, but then he corrects himself inwardly. He had no business and no reason to be there, so he shouldn’t even think about it.

“Dressing rooms?” He asks Sean, who merely tilts his head in the direction of the back of the room.

Harvey is discussing something with Coach Gerrard and Dominic when Mike enters his dressing room, the lights rather low and their heads stuck together in tense conspiracy. 

“Here,” Mike says and tosses the can of Gatorade at Harvey as soon as Harvey lifts his head and looks up at him. Harvey catches it with an ease that makes Mike shiver and that makes that persistent want in him rise.

Dominic and Coach Gerard exchange amused looks while Harvey stares at the can in his hand and then back at Mike.

“Gonna kill that blabbermouth,” Harvey murmurs, casting a look towards the door to the corridor that leads to the ring. He then opens the can and takes a small sip, then another one. 

The way he licks his lips afterwards goes straight to Mike’s groin.

“I’ll…” He clears his throat and points over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll be outside. Good luck with the—”

“No,” Harvey says and takes another sip from the can. “Stay. Sit. You can wait here.”

Mike does as he has been told and listens to Dominic, Coach Gerard and Harvey strategize for a while before he zones out and lets his eyes wander around the dressing room. Harvey’s street clothes are hanging neatly on a rack and his shoes are standing underneath the hanger with his trousers on. They’re beautiful shoes and Mike looks at them for a while. The thought of Harvey’s bare feet touching his bare legs makes him smile for a moment and then cringe. There are three Alphas in the room but all Mike can smell is Harvey.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door and Sean peeks inside. “Ten minutes, guys,” he says before his face disappears again. 

Coach Gerard gives Harvey a slap on the back and nods at Dominic, who leaves the room immediately. 

Mike watches Harvey rise from his seat and begin to flex his arms and legs, to jump up and down on the balls of his feet, to move back and forth and to the sides almost as if he is dancing and to execute a couple of practice hits. After that, he bandages his hands in silence and Coach Gerard helps him into his gloves, tying them up slowly and thoroughly.

“Good luck, son,” he says, hitting his fists against Harvey’s gloved ones once from above and then from below. “Knock him out.”

Harvey nods and wipes his forehead with the back of his forearm. “I will, Coach.” He walks towards the door to the corridor and when he passes Mike he stops for a moment and grins. “Come on, rookie. Come watch me win.”

The fight is nothing like Mike has ever seen. It is much harder and much faster than any of the practice fights he’s been present at, and both men go at each other as if they were fighting for their lives. Even though Kyle manages to land a couple of blows, one of them to Harvey’s jaw causing a cut that Dominic fixes in what seems like mere seconds, Harvey keeps the upper hand during the entire fight, and while he doesn’t knock Kyle out, he wins it by a landslide. 

“Can’t knock ‘em out in the first fight,” Coach Gerard explains to Mike right after the fight has ended and before the judges announce the points. He pulls Harvey’s mouth piece from between his teeth and winces as he examines the cut right above Harvey’s lip. “Audience doesn’t like that and neither do the organizers. Gotta keep ‘em entertained for a while before…”

“Come celebrate after?” Harvey pants and pulls the laces of his right glove open again with his teeth. “I want you there,” he adds before Mike can even start shaking his head. “Be there.”

When Harvey joins him and Dominic in the dressing room a couple of minutes later, the sweat drying on his skin and a couple of other guys, including Sean, in tow, Mike tenses. Harvey is in good spirits and he lets everyone congratulate him on his win, backs are slapped, fists bumped, and the air is so ripe with Alpha pheromones Mike could gag. 

The closer Harvey gets to where Mike is trying to make himself invisible near the door, the more his scent stands out among the general Alpha stench. When he has almost reached Mike, Mike dares to inhale properly for the first time since the others have entered the room. Harvey smells good, of course he does, he always smells good. _Too good,_ Mike thinks, but then his thoughts stop, because Harvey is there, standing right in front of him in full smiley, sweaty, vibrating Alpha winner mode. It feels as if Harvey’s entire is humming with the high he’s obviously riding.

_So, that’s what it is like,_ Mike thinks. 

“Hey,” Harvey says and leans close, inhaling deeply. “Did you enjoy the fight?”

Mike just shakes his head, his knees already weak with want. There’s a whistle somewhere in the background and for a moment it seems as if all conversation around them has ceased, but then there’s murmur and some kind of cheering, but Mike can’t really make out anything specific, because there’s Harvey, Harvey, Harvey.

“Hmmmm,” Harvey hums and brings his nose to the hollow above Mike’s right clavicle. “I did. And now I want to celebrate.”

Mike swallows thickly. His cock’s immediate response to Harvey’s proposition is oh, fuck yeah, let’s, but Mike wills it down, relieved that he’s still able to. 

“Does it hurt?” He licks his lips while he looks at the cut over Harvey’s and watches Harvey’s mouth curl into a smile. 

“No,” Harvey murmurs and leans in even closer, and closer, until his lips almost brush against Mike’s. “No, it doesn’t.”

Mike’s exes flutter shut and he exhales shakily. Close, so close…

“Please, don’t,” he whispers, fully prepared for Harvey to ignore his plea and kiss him nevertheless. When he doesn’t for first one second, then two, then three, when the warmth touching his face slowly fades, Mike opens his eyes again. 

Harvey is still there, looking at him, his eyes still glittering with the high. He tilts his head a little and then he nods.

“Okay,” he says, nodding slowly. “Have it your way, then.”

“You better get some ice for that cut,” Mike croaks, trying to regulate his breathing. “It’s going to bruise.”


	9. Chapter 9

Just like in the weeks before the tournament started, a kind of routine establishes itself during the weeks following the first fight. Training still takes place at Sean’s gym, as usual and every two or three days it’s Harvey’s turn to fight, and Mike joins him an hour before the bell rings in his dressing room, some Gatorade at the ready and his stomach clenched in tense anticipation.

He has found out that, while a part of him does enjoy seeing Harvey fight, he doesn’t enjoy seeing him being hit at all, even though he doesn’t get hit a whole lot.

Harvey’s boxing style is swift, elegant and it seems almost effortless, he’s faster than most of his opponents, even though a lot of them are younger, and his movements are much more precise. It seems as if he knows what his opponents are going to do next before they even know it themselves. It’s a pleasure, a true pleasure to watch that, but each time Harvey does get hit, every blow that bruises him or pierces his skin is like a direct hit to Mike’s stomach.

During the last fight before the quarter finals, though, Harvey doesn’t get hit once – he knocks his opponent out a few seconds into the seventh round.

This time, it’s Mike’s turn to ride on a high, all the tension of waiting for and watching the fight lifts as soon as Harvey’s opponent doesn’t get up from the ground by the time the referee has finished counting to ten.

This time, Mike feels like celebrating, too.

So, when Harvey approaches him again after he’s accepted all his team’s and admirers’ congratulations, Mike doesn’t pull away. Instead, he opens his mouth just the tiniest bit, so when Harvey’s lips touch against his, he can already almost taste him. 

Harvey pauses and licks his lips, then he leans in and places the gentlest of kisses against Mike’s, light like a butterfly, but with the sting of a bee. Mike flinches, but then he brings his lips against Harvey’s again and waits. 

The tip of Harvey’s tongue darts out and runs along Mike’s lower lip like a trail of white hot iron. Then he pauses again, just breathing in and out, the air falling from his lips making Mike’s head swim.

“I—” Mike whispers, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. “I’m not in heat. It’s… It’s not going to—”

“It can be so good like this as well,” Harvey murmurs against Mike’s lips, the knuckles of his right hand softly brushing against Mike’s arm. “I want to show you. Come home with me.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” Mike murmurs into the beginning of their kiss, while Harvey’s hand sneaks around his waist and comes to rest on the small of his back.

“No, you don’t,” Harvey murmurs, licking over Mike’s lips again and pulling him close. “I want to take you home with me.”

_Okay,_ is all Mike can think once Harvey really starts kissing him, his cock hard and throbbing against Mike’s groin and his body hot against Mike’s.

Mike doesn’t remember much of the drive back to the city and to Harvey’s apartment, just an onslaught of sensations, hands and tongues and maybe first playful bites, too. The same goes for the elevator ride up to Harvey’s condo, groping and moaning and swear-words hissed under both their breaths until they’re finally inside and out of their clothes.

Harvey’s skin is still sticky with the dried sweat from the fight and fresh one from what happened in the car and in the elevator, and Mike is drawn to that scent and that taste with an intensity that makes him blush all shades of red, but Harvey seems to like it, offering his skin up to Mike to smell and to lick, seems to enjoy it, encouraging Mike breathlessly wherever he lets his tongue travel.

By the time their mouths find each other again, Mike is drunk with arousal, all of his senses filled to the brim with Harvey’s scent, his taste and the texture of his skin.

Mike’s entire body is shaking with need, _go figure,_ he thinks, this is not just what he _wants,_ never has been just what he _wants_.

“Please,” he moans into Harvey’s mouth, flexing his hips and thrusting his cock against Harvey’s leg. He reaches for Harvey’s hand and brings it to his cleft, leaving Harvey’s fingers there, begging with his body as well as with his words. “Please, Harvey, oh god, please, please, I _need_ …”

He turns around, exposing himself to Harvey, ready to get down on the floor here and now, but Harvey stops him, pulling him against his chest again.

“We need lubricant this time,” he murmurs, his voice all warm and aroused, and Mike blushes again. He hadn’t even thought of that.

“It’s all right,” Harvey smiles and hooks his finger under Mike’s chin, looking him in the eyes for a moment, before he kisses him again. “I’ve got you. Let me—”

Mike silences Harvey with a deep hungry kiss that leaves both of them breathless and desperate for more. 

Harvey maneuvers Mike to the bedroom and pushes him down on the foot of the bed, spreading Mike’s legs by wedging his knee between them, and he has a finger buried deep inside of Mike before Mike even knows what is going on.

It hurts, but it also lights a fire inside of Mike like he’s never felt before. Mike gasps. “I… I…”

Harvey kisses the words from his lips and drinks the air from his lungs until Mike is thoroughly drained and can’t breathe anymore for a moment. Harvey opens him up carefully and slowly, taking his time torturing Mike with touches and smiles, until Mike is sure he’s going to come at the mere sensation of Harvey’s breath against his throat or the pulse of Harvey’s heartbeat against his fingertips.

Once Harvey is inside of him, this odd, intense calm settles over Mike again. He knows then that he’s home, and he has to close his eyes against that knowledge, that certainty that’s trying to suffocate him along with Harvey’s greedy mouth.

It takes Mike less than a minute to spill himself between their bodies, coming in hot, sticky spurts against their over-heated skin, and another ten to come again, this time following Harvey over the edge and falling into his arms at the bottom of the deepest abyss.

There’s nothing but darkness down there, a darkness so comforting Mike’s throat constricts and he has to bite his lips. Harvey’s arms hold him close, and he can feel Harvey’s heartbeat slowly evening out, and that’s most likely the most intimate thing he’s ever felt. That, and Harvey softening inside of him. 

“Why do you keep doing that,” Mike says later that night, facing Harvey in the pale light of the city streaming in. He runs his fingertips over the fading bruise on Harvey’s jaw, reading the braille code of his skin. “Why do you—”

Harvey catches Mike’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles. 

“I’m an Alpha,” he murmurs, running his thumb over Mike’s lips. “It’s what we do.”

“I don’t like it,” Mike whispers and lets his eyes flutter shut. He’s as tired as a stone all of a sudden, and all he wants is to let sleep wrap around him like Harvey’s arms.

“Will you be there for the last fights as well? In my dressing room, before they start?”

Mike nods and sighs when Harvey rolls him to his side and spoons up behind him again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A little later, he turns around in Harvey’s embrace and watches Harvey roll onto his back and throw an arm over his eyes to shield them from the little light there is, smacking his lips a little in his sleep. The sound he makes isn’t exactly a snore, it’s more like a weird breathing, but it goes straight to Mike’s heart.

The one thing he never wanted, the one thing he has been so desperate to avoid for almost all of his life, here it is. His heart swells at the sight of Harvey sleeping there, right next to him, not even an armlength away, his features soft and beautiful, wrapped in those graying shadows, and Mike knows that the only way around this is to walk away from it for good.

When the sun comes up over Manhattan the next morning, he slips out of bed as quietly as he can, gets dressed and leaves Harvey’s condo before Harvey wakes up.


	10. Chapter 10

Even though everything inside him tells him not to, Mike keeps his late night promise to Harvey. Of course, he still has files to bring to the gym on training days, signatures to collect and to take back to the firm, and for some reason, the other Alphas at the gym have stopped approaching him except for utterly harmless conversation or to try and gain some intelligence on Harvey’s vital stats and private training units. Mike is glad they’ve stopped. He cherishes the quiet, concentrated atmosphere that has settled over the gym these days. He doesn’t feel like talking much, so he mostly keeps to himself. It’s not that he’s brooding, but he prefers to listen to the silence inside of him rather than take part in the goings on around him.

The quarter final is Harvey against old Robert Zane. It’s probably going to be Robert’s last time participating in The Fight, he’s well over fifty already, and both his speed and the tension in his muscles have waned over the years. He holds his own in the ring, though, playing to his strengths, his weight and his experience, and Harvey has to give more than in any other match so far to win. 

Once the judges have officially declared Harvey the winner, Robert walks over to him and pats him on the back, hands still gloved. He murmurs something into Harvey’s ear, and both men grin. Then he nods towards where Mike is standing, and Harvey’s face falls. He shakes his head quickly and Robert nods. Mike thinks he can lip-read his reply. “I see.”

Harvey is moody after the fight, the atmosphere in his dressing room tense and uncomfortable. Mike keeps to his spot in the corner near the door and tries to fade into the background as much as possible, and he breathes a deep sigh of relieve when Harvey announces that he and Dominic will be heading for Moe’s bar for a couple of drinks. The semi-finale isn’t until next week, so they think they deserve a little break from the tough training regimen.

*****

“Hey, Mike,” Harold says, sticking his head into the firm’s associates’ kitchen two days later. Mike has just sat down for a minute to have a glass of water. “Heard already who Harvey’s fighting in the semi?”

Mike shakes his head. He hasn’t yet seen Harvey today and the quarter determining Harvey’s opponent in the semi only took place yesterday. “No. Who?”

“Jeff Malone.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Harold nods, stepping closer. He’s been trying to get Mike to let him tag along to the gym ever since the training has started. “He’s said to be invincible.”

“Nobody is invincible,” Mike replies, but an uneasy feeling settles in his stomach, a slowly gnawing fear. “What did Harvey say?”

“Just nodded,” Harold says, shaking his head. “Typical Alpha bravado, if you ask me. He has to be worried, Malone’s really good. He’s won the fight in Chicago five years in a row before he moved back here, man’s a legend.”

“Harvey’s going to be okay,” Mike says, more to reassure himself than to reassure Harold. “He’s got this.”

“His odds aren’t rising, that’s all I’m saying.” Harold tries to snap his fingers but it doesn’t really work. The sound he’s aiming for is not coming. “How much do you have on him again?”

Mike sighs. Harold means well, he knows that, but that kid has an uncanny ability to say the exact wrong thing every time. 

“I’ll see if he needs anything,” he says and rises from his chair. If what Harold says is true, Harvey will want to see Coach Gerard as soon as possible, so his day has to be cleared. Mike thinks he should speak to Donna first, make sure everything goes smoothly.

And he’s right. Harvey is already flipping his briefcase shut when Mike turns away from Donna’s desk and opens the door to Harvey’s office. 

“You’re ready?” Harvey asks, and Mike nods.

*****

The fight is brutal, Jeff Malone being exactly the menace he’s said to be, and Harvey receives more than one critical hit during the first five rounds. 

Mike feels as if he’s going to throw up, he has felt like that ever since Harvey didn’t touch the Gatorade Mike had brought for him in the dressing room. The audience is buzzing with tension, and every time Malone lands a blow, Mike’s stomach lurches.

He can see how Harvey’s defenses are weakening, breaking even from time to time, and from the tense look on Coach Gerard’s face when he talks to Harvey in his corner between rounds, Mike gathers that he’s just as worried.

When the sixth round starts, Mike is sure that this is when Harvey is going to go down. He wills himself to keep his eyes open, to watch what is happening in the ring. Harvey’s left eye is almost swollen shut, there is an angry bruise on his left cheekbone and his lower lip has been split and taped. His movements seem as meticulous as ever but for someone who has been watching Harvey train and fight so closely for so many weeks as Mike has, the subtle lack of precision is blatantly visible.

Mike bites his lips. He wants Harvey to go down, he wants this to be over, he can’t take this a second longer, but he also wants time to stop. He doesn’t want this to be happening, not one bit. He knows, however this is going to end, he’ll never bring Harvey Gatorade again. 

From one second to the next time really does seem to slow down, to freeze or even to move backwards, when Harvey’s next blow makes it through Malone’s defense and hits him right at that point on his chin.

Malone’s head is thrown around and he stumbles backwards, before he manages to steady himself for a brief moment. He blinks. He blinks again and shakes his head. Then he falls down to the floor as if in slow motion.

The crowd jumps up like one single person, cheering, screaming, everyone except for Mike who seems to be frozen to his seat. He can’t even hear the referee count down, but when the roaring around him intensifies and when there is a bell, Mike closes his eyes. His hands are shaking, so he clenches his fists and bites the inside of his cheeks.

Harvey has won. He has done it, he has knocked Malone out cold.

It’s over.

When Mike opens his eyes again, everyone else but him has left the arena, there’s just a guy with a broomstick cleaning the ring’s floor. 

Harvey’s blood.

Mike slowly rises from his seat and walks through the door and past the deserted reception until he’s standing outside in the parking lot. He shakes his head when the driver of their town car wants to get out and open the door for him. Instead he calls a cab, gives the driver his address and sinks against the backseat.

Once at home, he undresses, falls into bed and sleeps ten hours straight.

*****

When Mike arrives at the venue where the grand finale, The Fight, takes place, he hasn’t seen Harvey in five days. Harvey has been granted leave of absence from the firm by Jessica herself to prepare for The Fight, and he and Coach Gerard and some unnamed sparring partners have withdrawn to a secret location somewhere upstate New York for the final training sessions.

People are filing into the venue’s lobby, excited chatter and last minute bets taking place all around Mike. He can see Sean somewhere in the crowd for a moment but then his line of vision is blocked again by an endless stream of spectators heading for the hall of the ring.

Mike swallows before he approaches the ticket booths. There’s a seat reserved for him in one of the front rows, he knows that, a ringside ticket, but he doesn’t want that seat. He buys a ticket for a seat somewhere in the middle of the crowd, a seat from where he can see enough but not too much. Huge posters announce all around the venue’s lobby announce The Fight and it’s two participants, Harvey R. Specter and Travis C. Tanner. 

The posters show Harvey’s and Tanner’s faces, all sharp edges and hard shadows, and Mike has never felt so small. 

Harvey looks unreal on those posters, larger than life, and it seems to Mike as if his eyes are following him, scolding him for not being there in the dressing room with him, as promised, deeply annoyed by the lack of Gatorade. 

For a second, Mike stops in his steps. He could still go, there is still time, if he can find Sean in the crowd he’s sure Sean could get him through security and into Harvey’s dressing room. Or wait – the security guards probably already know who he is and are prepared to let him through anyway. His hand sneaks into the pocket of his jacket, and his fingertips touch the cool metal of the can he’s carrying with him. 

But then he squares his back and resumes his way to the auditorium. He shows his ticket to the man at the door and heads in the direction the man’s hand points to. He finds his seat just as the lights in the room begin to dim, leaving only the ring bathed in brightness, so the pre-fight shenanigans must already be over.

The ring announcer steps into the light, clearing his throat. Mike notices the deep crease between his eyebrows and the way he shifts, visibly uncomfortable, as the audience quiets down.

“Ladies and Gentleman,” he says and his voice echoes over the heads of everyone present. The mic screeches, but when he speaks next, everything is fine, so one of the sound technicians must have adjusted the levels. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he repeats, and the people around Mike begin to shift in their seats. “Before The Fight can commence, I have a request on behalf of one of the opponents,” he adds, and a sinking feeling begins to expand in Mike’s chest. “Is a Mike Ross in the audience?”

Mike’s face explodes with a fierce blush, and he sinks down in his seat bit by little bit as an increasing whisper begins to grow in the audience. Heads turn, his name makes its round through the entire room reverberating from everywhere, until the ring announcer speaks again. 

“Mike Ross? Do we have a Mike Ross?”

He looks down at something in his hands, and frowns.

“Lights, please?”

A spot light begins to move over the heads of the assembled crowd, scanning row after row, slowly inching closer to where Mike is sitting. He wishes he could simply disappear, maybe be swallowed by a hole in the ground or lifted upwards into the darkness by an alien beam, he doesn’t really care which way. It’s too late to jump up and run away and the way the rows of seats are constructed make it impossible to secretly crawl away to one of the emergency exits in the back.

“Mike Ross, Ladies and Gentlemen? _Mike Ross?_ ”

A second spot of light joins the first and together they search for Mike, who’s still there because his mind, his will has been too weak to make his body fade away.

The first beam touches the top of his head and moves away again, and for a second Mike thinks he might have lucked out, but then it returns, bathing his face in light, blinding him so he has to shield his eyes with his hand. Beam number two finds him as well, and the voice of the ring announcer booms through the hall. 

“Mike Ross, would you please proceed to the dressing rooms immediately? A guard will show you the way.”

Mike gets up, staring at his feet, trying to block out the crowd around him. The can of Gatorade is still there and his fingers close around it. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded, and of course that’s what Harvey wants, a sip of Gatorade before the fight, nothing more.

He follows the guard along the pathway and through the portal through which the contestants usually walk into the hall, only half aware that the guard is talking to him. He frowns and shakes his head, and after a couple of steps into the hallway leading to the dressing rooms, the guard gives up.

Far too soon they stop, and the guard, Sam, according to the nametag on his chest, knocks on a dark metal door. “I have Mike Ross here for Harvey Specter, Sir,” he says when Coach Gerard opens the door. 

The Coach nods and ushers Mike into the dressing room where Harvey and Sean are apparently having an angry discussion. 

“I don’t care, Sean,” Harvey says, untying the laces of his boxing gloves in his usual fashion. “If he’s not here I’m not going to—”

“Harvey.” 

Coach Gerard’s voice cuts right through Harvey’s words, and the way Harvey stops immediately and turns his head around makes Mike understand why he’s one of the most sought-after boxing coaches in the country and feared among Alphas. 

“He’s here.”

Harvey’s head turns around a little further and their eyes lock.

“Mike.”

Mike’s heart is beating wildly in his chest and the sound of the blood rushing through his veins is deafening. His feet seem to be glued to the floor, all he can do is watch Harvey turn slowly and walk towards him, step by step. His fingers clutch the Gatorade in his pocket and his mouth feels impossibly dry.

“You’re here.”

Harvey stops just one step away from Mike, his eyes never leaving Mike’s. 

“I knew you’d come.”

“Did not,” Sean yells from behind Harvey’s back. “You should have seen him just a minute ago. Nervous as a rookie. Swore he wasn’t going to fight if you didn’t show up. Said he needed you here.”

“Needed?” Mike whispers, and his eyes drop to Harvey’s mouth, to Harvey’s tongue licking slowly over his lips.

“Yeah,” Harvey says slowly, tilting his head a little to catch Mike’s eyes again. “But don’t tell anybody I said that. My reputation would be ruined.”

Mike watches a small smile unveil on Harvey’s face, and he pulls his hand from his pocket, handing Harvey the can. 

“Your reputation is already ruined.”

Harvey grins. A true and honest grin, and Mike thinks he has never seen anything that beautiful. There’s nothing left of that larger than life face from the poster in the lobby. This is Harvey, this is his Alpha, the man he wants, needs and loves. 

“I’m glad you came,” Harvey says, taking the can from Mike’s hand, a little clumsy because he’s still wearing his gloves. He hands it to Coach Gerard, who opens it and gives it back to him, a small smile playing around his lips. Harvey takes a small sip, then he hands it back to Coach Gerard, who drains it in one go. 

“Thank god,” Sean murmurs in Harvey’s back, and Harvey’s grin broadens for a moment before it fades.

Harvey stretches his hands out, and Mike stares at the loose laces hanging from Harvey’s gloves. He blinks a couple of times while Harvey just stands there and waits. 

Mike’s fingers seem a little alien to him, almost unreal, as he ties Harvey’s laces, getting him ready to fight.

“Be careful,” he whispers, and Harvey nods. “Knock him out.”

“I will.”

“Don’t take too long. I don’t want to wait too long before we can go home and celebrate.”

Harvey takes a little step closer and brushes his lips against Mike’s. 

“Me neither.”

He inhales deeply, placing another light kiss on Mike’s mouth. “You’re mine.”

“I am,” Mike murmurs against Harvey’s lips, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply as well. “Always.”

 

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [sal-si-puedes](http://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr - come and say 'Hi!'!


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